Chapter Seventeen
Chapter
Seventeen
“There’s our famous girl!”
Ramona had barely set foot in Clover Moon when the entire place erupted.
“Ramona, how did it happen?”
“Have you kissed her yet?”
“Does she wear colored contacts?”
Ramona blinked in the doorway as every single eye in the dining room landed on her, townsfolk shouting at her from their seats.
“Don’t forget about us when you get married!”
“What’s she like in bed, honey?”
This from Annette Fontaine, an octogenarian with a penchant for smut.
“Annette, for god’s sake,” Ramona said.
Annette just shrugged and went back to her omelet.
“Hey, darling!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ramona said, clutching at her chest. Penny Hampton, of Penny for Your Thoughts , had popped up next to her like a jack-in-the-box from hell.
“Sorry, doll,” Penny said. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions?” She thrust her phone in Ramona’s face, voice memo app recording.
“Penny, seriously?” she asked.
Penny nodded vigorously. Her shoulder-length copper hair—which Ramona was almost positive she dyed to match the color of an actual penny—didn’t even move when she did, frozen into a football helmet style by an entire can of Aqua Net.
“I’m always serious about the town’s goings-on,” Penny said, “and this is the biggest news to hit our little hamlet since the movie itself.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” April said from Ramona’s other side. “Nothing is bigger than when Howie Hanlin had to go to the ER in Manchester for sticking the handle of a hairbrush up his—”
“And I’ll get back to you,” Ramona said to Penny, grabbing April’s arm and hauling her to the back of the diner. Olive had found Marley, and the two of them were hunched over Marley’s phone at the counter. Ramona didn’t want to think about what had them so engrossed, though she had a good idea.
It wasn’t as though Ramona had done anything wrong, or that she was ashamed even. She’d played mini-golf, for god’s sake. And while Clover Lake was small and everyone was always in everyone’s business, Ramona wasn’t quite used to this kind of prying.
Or attention.
Of course, after her mother left town, the town was abuzz, but they also had the wherewithal to shut up when Ramona and her dad were around, and they brought casseroles. Lots and lots of casseroles, as though Rebecca had died. And in retrospect, she kind of had.
She’d disappeared from their lives just as completely.
“This is amazing,” April said as Ramona continued tugging her to the back. Ramona waved at Owen as he came out of the kitchen, and she and April headed for his office. As she closed the door, she heard his voice boom through the dining room.
“All right, folks, finish up! I need everyone out of here in ten minutes!”
A cheer went up, because Clover Lake was Clover Lake, excited over getting kicked out of a diner for a Hollywood film, and Ramona pressed her back to the door.
“So when’s the next date?” April asked, folding her arms.
“Not you too,” Ramona said. “I told you, nothing—”
“I know what you told me. I also know it’s bullshit.”
“It absolutely is not bullshit.”
“Okay, well, it should be.”
Ramona pressed her hands to her forehead. “I’m dizzy. I’m literally dizzy.”
“Love will do that.”
Ramona dropped her hands. “Be serious.”
“I am . This is some serious Meant to Be shit.”
Ramona scoffed. “That kind of thinking has never worked out very well for anyone in this room.”
April’s expression froze for a second, then her mouth snapped shut. “Right.”
“Honey,” Ramona said, exhaling heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
April’s jaw was tight. “No, no, I’m fully aware that the person I thought was my Meant to Be discarded me like a piece of trash.”
“Apes,” Ramona said softly. “I just mean I don’t think about Dylan that way. I can’t. And you’re not trash. You’re perfect.”
“Oh, I know.” April agreed, and they both laughed softly before April grew serious again. “I’m not saying you have to believe in fairy tales,” April said, lifting her eyes to Ramona. “But I want you to at least believe in you .”
Ramona sighed, unsure how to respond to that. Luckily, she didn’t have a chance. A knock sounded on the door, vibrating against Ramona’s back and causing her to yelp. She clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Ramona? Are you in there?”
Dylan.
Ramona turned and flung the door open, then pulled Dylan inside.
“Whoa,” Dylan said as she was hurled toward the couch.
“She’s a little excited,” April said, the energy in her voice back to normal levels, much to Ramona’s relief. She winked at Ramona, then leaned against Owen’s desk, which was completely covered in papers and sticky notes. The man hated computers.
“Sorry,” Ramona said to Dylan. “This is just…unexpected.”
“I know,” Dylan said.
“But not unwelcome,” April said.
“Okay, get out,” Ramona said, opening the door again.
“What?” April said.
“I can’t think with your constant two cents,” Ramona said, waving her hand at the hall. “Out.”
“Llama Face.”
“Don’t Llama Face me. Go.
“What do I get if I do?”
Ramona loved April. Would die for her, truly, but she swore to god. She rubbed her temples. “I’ll watch Serendipity with you later. Again.”
April narrowed her eyes. “Oh, well played.” She ambled out of the room at a glacial pace. As soon as she cleared the doorway, Ramona pushed the door closed, and she was pretty sure it hit April in the butt before clicking shut.
“ Serendipity ?” Dylan asked.
“April’s favorite movie.”
Silence settled between them for a second before Dylan inhaled deeply and steepled her fingers, pressing the tips under her chin. “Can we talk? I mean, about something other than Kate Beckinsale movies.”
Ramona swallowed thickly. “Um. Yeah. Sure.”
Dylan motioned to the couch, then sat as Ramona made her way to the plaid monstrosity she was pretty sure Owen found in an alley. She sank down, the springs squeaking.
“So,” Dylan said. “Exciting morning.”
Ramona laughed nervously. “Yeah. To say the least.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Ramona waved a hand. “You’ve apologized enough. Really.”
Dylan nodded, fiddled with a loose string dangling from an artful rip in her jeans. She cleared her throat. Cleared it again.
“You okay?” Ramona asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dylan said, wrapping the now free string around her forefinger. “I’m super.”
“Super.”
Dylan’s laugh was shaky. “Okay. Yeah. I think I’m a little nervous.”
“Nervous?” Butterflies swelled in Ramona’s own stomach. “Why?”
Dylan took a deep breath, kept twining that string around her finger. “Because with all the excitement this morning, I…well, I started thinking.”
They were larger than butterflies now. Some huge, winged creature flapping away in Ramona’s gut. Yesterday at Mirror Cove flashed through her memory—yesterday and eighteen years ago—two girls, lonely, hungry, free with each other in a way they couldn’t seem to find with anyone else.
“Oh?” Ramona said, but her voice squeaked like a prepubescent. She coughed, told herself to calm the hell down.
Dylan’s finger was now nearly purple from the string cutting off her circulation. She unwound it quickly, flung it to the floor. “Yeah,” she said, rubbing at her finger as it changed back to its normal color. “And…and I think we should go on a date.”
Even though Ramona was half expecting this exact thing, she was also half expecting Dylan to say they shouldn’t hang out at all anymore, and she honestly wasn’t sure which one she preferred. Her brain and heart battled it out—practicality and emotion, Noelle Yang against comfort in Clover Lake, thirteen-year-old Cherry versus thirty-one-year-old Ramona.
“Oh?” Ramona said. Again. Seemed like that two-letter word was the only thing left in her vocabulary.
“Just casual,” Dylan said. “You know…fun. Not so different from what we’ve been doing, really. Just, you know…it’s like…different because, I might, I don’t know. Hold your finger.”
“My finger?”
“I mean hand . Jesus.” Dylan rubbed her forehead. “I’m very bad at this.”
Somehow, Dylan’s fumbling calmed Ramona down a bit—comfort that she wasn’t the only one who was freaking out here.
Maybe it was a bad idea, a colossal mistake. There was really no chance for anything serious here—they came from two different worlds—and Noelle Yang hovered in Ramona’s mind, an elegant ghost, a haunting of everything she wanted.
But she had to admit, she wanted this too.
It didn’t have to be a big deal.
Fun , as Dylan said.
The whole town already thought they were dating anyway, and Ramona was tired of saying no to things. For all the ways April drove Ramona bananas, she was right about one thing—Ramona had put her life on hold for Olive and her family.
But she didn’t have to do that anymore.
And if she wanted to hold Dylan Monroe’s finger, goddammit, she would do it.
For herself. And for Cherry, that thirteen-year-old girl who felt so forgettable, so… left .
“Yes,” Ramona said.
Dylan dropped her hand from her forehead. “Yes?”
Ramona smiled. “Yes.”
Dylan smiled too, her hand twitching in her lap, as if she wanted to hold Ramona’s hand right now. And maybe she would’ve, had April Evans not screamed “Yes!” from the other side of the office door at that very moment.
Ramona kept smiling serenely, kept her eyes on Dylan, then said calmly, “I’m going to kill her.”
Dylan just laughed, then reached out and took Ramona’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. It lasted only a moment before another knock sounded on the door—Laurel telling Dylan that Noelle was on her way for costume and makeup—but it was enough to send Ramona’s stomach into a free fall.
Noelle’s name echoed through her thoughts.
Casual , she told herself. Fun.
“Will you be here later?” Dylan asked as they stood up, their hands dropping away.
“Later?” Ramona asked.
“For filming?”
“Oh. No, I wasn’t planning—”
“Please?” Dylan said. “I could use a friendly face while I inevitably do everything wrong.”
Ramona looked down, tried to force Noelle Yang out of her head, but the more she tried, the more that was the only thing she could think about.
“Please?” Dylan said again, then twined her fingers back through Ramona’s.
Ramona stared at their hands before lifting her gaze to Dylan’s eyes. Those iceberg eyes, so clear Ramona felt like she was tipping into an icy pool, breath-stealing water closing over her head.
“Okay,” she heard herself say, and in that moment, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to say no to Lolli-Dolly-Dylan Monroe.